


Ricochet

by Thornesedge (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Spirits, Storytelling, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 16:36:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Thornesedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Darkness of the Final Battle is too great for Harry, and he escapes into his mind to heal. His twelve soul-protectors fight to save his sanity and soul, and they find refuge in the most inlikely of places. Bonds are forged between them and once forbidden beings, old ties are cut, and many stories are told.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ricochet

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello!
> 
> This is the prologue of my new fic Ricochet. Oddly enough, it was inspired by both an amazing fic that I read that’s title and author has escaped into the sands of time, and a series that my baby sister was reading- The Percy Jackson Series by Rick Riordan. The plot bunny attacked me and started gnawing at my neck. So I had to write something.
> 
> Nice Kitty holds priority over all of my other fics, published or un-published, so the updates won’t be regular for Ricochet, or for Phoenix. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Je ne suis pas J.K. Rowling. No mi chiamo J.K. Rowling. I have never been J.K. Rowling. 
> 
> All questions and comments are welcome!

Prologue

“GET INTO YOUR CUBOARD, BOY!” Shouted a deep, harsh voice in his ear, putrid breath warming his tear-stained cheek as a large, bruising hand dug into his shoulder whilst the other opened the bolted door. The door was opened, and the other hand grabbed a painful fist of Harry’s hair. His frail body was lifted clear off the ground, and a split-second later he landed painfully on his blood-stained, thread-bare blanket. The door crashed closed, the impact sharing dust and spiders from the underside of the stairs above him, the four bolts and chains were slotted into place.  
A whimper escaped his bruised throat as he tried to move, and suddenly he felt warm, soothing arms embrace him. The pain was washed away by the scent of wildflowers and autumn leaves, and a comforting, long-forgotten voice cooed into his ear, as soft as the petals of a lily-flower.  
“Oh, little one. Shh. Let me tell you a story.” The spirit said, and she began to gently rock Harry to and fro in her arms as she told her tale.  
“There once was a kingdom, in a sacred land, where all of the creatures and beings lived together in harmony. This land was governed by four just rulers, the mighty four founders, who were once apprentices of Merlin himself. There were to handsome kings, one with the quick wit and cunning of a snake, the other with the great courage and strength of a lion. They ruled together two queens, one with the intelligence and elegance of an eagle, and the other with the most beautiful smile and kind heart of all the land.

“The land itself was rich and bountiful, with blooms of the brightest colours and fruits of the sweetest taste. The trees whispers to each other, and the wind sang as it danced through the sun-reaching leaves. The brooks babbled and the streams sparkled, silver fish of the smallest size zipping to and fro with great speed as they played together, the wolf mothers chatting by the water as their cubs frolicked with the deer and rabbits.

“All was good in the land, for pain was a myth spoken of in a whisper on a dark night, and those that left their shells behind joined the Great Spirit Mother Magic, and sang their soul-songs to the rest of the land, the air alive with sparks of colour and smoky images of their lives and loved ones. When their song was finished, the souls would lie down in the eternal meadows, the grass soft a down-feather, blanketed by a warm breeze that smelled of wild flowers and autumn leaves. They slept until the Great Mother awakened them once more, and gifted them a new body. The cycle was endless and sacred, and the Great Mother was beloved of all her children.

“The Great Mother birthed a son, and he was different from all others, for inside his shell, not one soul did reside, but a dozen. The Great Mother named him Henry, the ruler of the home. She gifted his souls with names that would be thought of as great god by later beings, and She gave each soul a great and mystical power. She crafted Henry’s body to shape to every soul, and Her great power allowed each soul to share the body, and to be happy.

“But soon trouble came from the west, and dark, putrid miasma swept across the land, and shuttered out the warming sun’s light. The land grew cold, and the Great Mother was forced to raise arms and defend Her children. Henry, the brave, brave being that he was, vowed to rid the darkness from the sacred lands. With the power gifted to him by the Great Mother, and the strength forged by his own souls, he became Harold, the power-wielder, the commander of great armies. His form grew to a great height and strength, and majestic black wings bloomed from his back, his green eyes burning with determination and power.  
“He fought the darkness for millennia, his will unyielding, and his mighty sword unbroken. But as he fought the sacred lands froze in time, and the once bright colours faded from view. The Great Mother grew weary, and in the soul-meadow she fell into a deep sleep.

“When Harold returned the darkness had been banished, but his bones were weary and his mind was almost broken, like a thin sheet of ice riddled with tiny cracks and holes.

“His noble presence awakened the Great Mother, and slowly the sacred lands warmed and the colours returned. She was greatly troubled by her son’s soul-song, for when he sang for her the notes were tarnished and muffled, his soul-sparks dim and colourless.

“In an act of desperation to save her son, the Great Mother sent Harold into a deep, healing soul-sleep. As he slept, she crafted webs of silvery love and faith, and wrapped the silky material around Harold’s souls. Centuries passed until Harold was healed enough to return to being Henry, and yet he slept on. Millennia had passed when the Great Mother was finally satisfied by her work. The webs bonded the souls together, so close that they seemed to form a single entity. Each of the dozen had their name, power, and presence, but together they protected a single, precious new soul. This soul was pure and ethereal, and he was gifted power that surpassed that of Merlin himself, the Great Mother’s first son and heir.

“In the millennia that had passed, the darkness had seeped over the borders of the sacred lands, but the light and the Great Mother’s children had changed it, tamed it. Soon many of her children were born of both darkness and light, and their shells formed into beings that called themselves ‘Mages’. Merlin returned from lands afar, and with his majestic apprentices he created a land for the ‘Mages’ to thrive in. They crafted plants and animals unique to their land, and gave them access to their brother-land, that of beings that called themselves ‘Humans’.

“The Mages and Humans interbred, as did the creatures of both lands. Soon many new and fantastical being came into existence. The most prominent and powerful of the creatures called themselves ‘Wizards’, and their female called themselves ‘Witches’. The power of Mother Magic was woven into their soul-fabric, a no two wizards were truly identical.  
“The time came when the Great Mother felt the need to awaken her son, and after securing his web-bound protectors around his precious heart-soul, his thirteenth and rightful mind-soul, she gently placed him into a newly created shell. Many weeks passed, until the shell was developed, and the Great Mother’s power called him from his carrier’s womb. With his first breath, the Great Mother wrapped her in her warm embrace, and his souls and shell bonded together into one entity.

“The precious baby boy was named Harry.”

Her tale told, the mother spirit looked down, and a beautiful smile bloomed across her face at the sight of little Harry. The neglected and abused four-year-old, was asleep and angelic as his wounds healed themselves and his soul-protectors battled away the darkness that fought to invade the innocent’s mind. One of his small, pale hands was holding a lock of her waist-length auburn hair, the other hand its thumb in the boy’s mouth, his index finger bent over the bridge of his nose. The green eyes that mirrored her own were shuttered by pale, petal-soft lids, the long ebony lashes resting delicately on his now rosy cheeks, his health restored by the Great Mother’s power.

Her smile turned sad, and a tear fell from an emerald eye, landing softly on her child’s lightning-bolt scar. She leaned down and kissed the drop away, before gently removing Harry’s hand from her hair. She kissed both rosy cheeks, both shuttered eyes, and his cute button nose.

As a parting gesture, she left behind a kiss right over his heart. The kiss, full of love and magic, formed into the image of a tiny black lion cub, sleeping, one paw in its mouth, the other resting on a long-stemmed bud of a lily-flower. The image would grow with her son, and his emotions and health would be portrayed by his heart-lion. Only her son and wizards that had her son’s utmost trust would be able to see the image, and she kissed the knowledge into his mind by his temple.  
After a soft whispering of love and farewell, the spirit returned to the sacred meadows.

Her little cub was left behind, cocooned in her love and the smell of wildflowers and autumn leaves. He truly felt warm, loved, and safe.

To be continued…

**Author's Note:**

> Post A/N: All questions and comments are welcome!


End file.
